


Attention Is the Beginning of Devotion

by thescandaloflesbianism



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Bonding, Canon Compliant, Developing Friendships, F/F, Fluff, Missing Scene, Motherhood, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescandaloflesbianism/pseuds/thescandaloflesbianism
Summary: Lilith and Zelda share a moment in the weeks after Adam's birth. Or, something embarrassingly short I needed to get out of my system in order to achieve inner peace and move on with my life.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	Attention Is the Beginning of Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> If you see me sharing this after I said I would take a break from my other story until I'm done with my exams, I would like to point out that it is my God-given right to be gay and unpredictable. Jokes aside, I've had this in my drafts for a couple of weeks and it's just something I needed to get out of my system. Also, Lilith's baby never died. That simply didn't happen, so feel free to read this with the knowledge that they will all live happily ever after!

A bright morning light woke Lilith up from her slumber, fighting its way through the curtains over the large window in her room and falling gently on the skin of her face, puffed up with sleep. It was warm and welcoming, as if spring had unexpectedly decided to make a surprising comeback, but the demoness knew that they were well into the cold months and that nature was far from blooming. Opening her eyes little by little, she found herself gazing at the ceiling, her limbs no longer tense with the fear and anxiety that had been haunting her for days. She felt rested and calm, which was exactly why she knew that something was wrong. Adam, with his quiet snores and loud shrieks every two to four hours, had never allowed her to sleep through the night before. Where was her baby?

She bolted upright, her heart racing. Her head was spinning from the abrupt movement and the morning sickness that had vexed throughout her short but very intense pregnancy was still lingering, even weeks after her son's hurried birth. Adam's entrance into that world had been hasty and excruciating and she bore the scars of that day – mostly in the form of sudden pelvic pains and other unpleasant side effects of birthing a child that she wasn't willing to discuss with her midwives, no matter how bad her discomfort would get. She readied herself to jump out of her bed and look for her baby, fearing the worst, but stopped once she spotted Zelda Spellman's familiar silhouette in a corner of the room, holding her newborn with such care that one could have thought her to be the child's own mother, rocking him as she sang a placid lullaby.

Lilith knew that she should have snatched her heir away from the woman's comforting arms and told her to never pick up the future King of Hell from his crib without her explicit permission again, but quarreling with Zelda Spellman had yet to do her any good. Instead, she sat back on the bed, observing that curious scene as it unfolded in front of her, ready to intervene. Not that she believed the witch to be capable of hurting her son, but Lilith couldn't take any chances, as she was accustomed to expecting the worst even from the people she most trusted.

"Hi, little one," Zelda said, having yet to notice that Lilith had woken up, too busy staring into the baby's vivid blue eyes. Shortly after his birth, Hilda had told Lilith that the color of Adam's eyes would likely change as he grew older, but she secretly hoped it wouldn't. She wanted her child to have eyes like hers. Selfish as it was, she wanted a part of herself to always be with him.

Adam let out a small whimper and Zelda started to move back and forth more rapidly, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Lilith marveled at the woman's ability to swiftly stop the baby's crying, but then realized that Zelda had obviously done that before: she'd raised Sabrina with the help of her sister, after all, and some actions, once learned, could never be forgotten, muscle memory coming back in times of need. Zelda's tenderness surprised Lilith: rigorous and stern, the witch looked anything but approachable in her daily life, but there seemed to be a deeper, softer side of her that Lilith hadn't gained access to yet – and perhaps she never would. Not that she cared about any of that, naturally. She had more important things to worry about. But if it really didn't matter, why was that thought making her feel such gloom?

Zelda, Lilith thought, looked rather beautiful: her ginger locks were gold-streaked, illuminated by the gentle rays of the sun. Carefully holding her newborn child, she reminded Lilith of the Holy Virgin – whom she had met, in fact, and did not dislike as much as all those other people involved with the False God. Mary had been nothing but a young woman tasked with a duty far too great for a girl of fourteen or fifteen, yet she'd blindly agreed to what her deity had asked of her, either out of love for her idol or fear of his vengeance if she had rejected his request. Mary of Nazareth wasn't so different from Lilith herself. It seemed as if women, throughout all species, realms, and religions, had to endure some kind of unjust struggle to prove themselves worthy of the men who pretended to love and care about them, but were willing to throw them aside like discarded toys when they were no longer useful to them. That wouldn't happen to Lilith anymore, however, and she would make sure that all the men who had ever caused women any kind of suffering would die a slow, agonizing death. She couldn't take away their pain, but she would make sure to torture their abusers for the rest of eternity, after taking back her scepter and throne.

She cleared her throat. Zelda spun in her direction, startled. She recovered quickly, saying, "Good morning. I thought you'd be asleep for a few more hours." She looked at Adam, a guilty expression crossing her face. "He was fussing. I didn't want him to wake you."

The witch held Lilith's gaze for a moment, the corners of her lips slightly lifted, as if to show her that her intentions had been good. Lilith didn't need her to do that, for she knew, in her heart, that Zelda Spellman would never cause her or her son any harm. "Thank you, Sister Spellman," she said. "I needed the rest."

"I figured," Zelda commented, failing to repress her know-all attitude. Possibly not wanting to sound pedantic, as she generally tended to when talking to Lilith, she added, "I remember those first few months with Sabrina. Hilda and I barely slept."

"I take it she also had a tendency to wake up every thirty minutes to nurse." Was Lilith truly attempting to make conversation with that woman? She didn't particularly care for talk of onesies and feeding bottles, but it had been so long since she'd last spent some time with a creature she hadn't personally given birth to and, no matter how much she tried to convince herself of the contrary, she was beginning to enjoy Zelda's company, unnecessary as her presence may have been. If she were to be honest with herself, she could use some advice, on occasion. Demon or not, she was not above feeling lost and tired.

"All the time." Zelda broke into a smile. "More often than not, the lack of sleep would exasperate me so terribly that I would beg Hilda to hit me with a shovel and bury me in the Cain Pit so that I could get some rest. I do feel nostalgic, sometimes. She was a lovely babe," she whispered, once again glancing at Adam's cherubic features. "The days are long, but the years are short. You might miss this too, eventually." She let out a deep sigh, handing the child to Lilith. "I apologize for my intrusion. I won't come into your rooms unannounced again, if you don't want me to."

Lilith took Adam into her arms, softly cooing at him. She considered Zelda's words for an instant and came to the conclusion that she did, deep down, want her to visit her again. She might come to miss that time spent alone with her newborn son, but only if she managed to get through that awful phase in the first place. Lilith had never asked another being for help and she wasn't sure how to, but she didn't seek assistance from the witch, exactly: she merely wanted someone she could talk to during those long winter days – not too frequently, clearly, since interacting with Zelda Spellman more than once or twice over the span of twenty-four hours sounded draining, but a brief chat with the woman every once in a while didn't sound too horrible. Besides, Lilith was new to the world of babies and nappies and Zelda had been a mother for longer than she had. Not in the biological sense, of course, but Lilith had realized a long time before that a woman could be a mother in more ways than one.

"I wouldn't mind that," she admitted through gritted teeth, as if a weapon were pointed at her head. Zelda shot her a confused glance and she understood how insincere she had sounded. "I'm exhausted, frankly, and you're a natural with Adam. If you wish to come to visit us again in the future, I wouldn't be against that." Again, her words had seemed quite forced, so she added, "I would like that, I believe."

Zelda stared at her with raised eyebrows, as if she were attempting to figure out if the demoness was playing a cruel trick on her, but Lilith was no longer the mean, evil creature she'd been before Adam's birth. Not when it came to Zelda Spellman, at least. "I would like that too. I'm free tonight, in fact. Shortly before dinner. I could ask the Academy's cooks to prepare us something to eat and bring it to your chambers." A new interest was glimmering in her eyes, but Lilith pretended not to notice it, even if it made a warm, pleasant sensation swirl in the depths of her belly. "If you'd like that, of course."

"I would," Lilith replied, following a short pause. "Yes, I think I would."


End file.
